Guardians of Time Read online

  ALMIRA LINKED RHIANNON’S arm as they strolled down the corridor for Rhiannon to take the travel stone back to Castle Carreg.

  “The moon goddess story was inspired,” said Almira.

  “You speaking to Boudicca and I through her was the boost of confidence we needed.”

  “And Annie?”

  “I thought your words of wisdom would be useful to her in the future.”

  “Mine?” said Almira. “No, I shan’t continue as the moon goddess. Rhiannon, you have completed three successful missions as a Time Guardian. It is Time to resume your true role in the Universe.”

  “I can’t be a Time Guardian anymore?”

  From her pocket, Almira took a small mirror. “This is the Mirror of Truth. You know you’re different from everyone here, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but ...”

  “Then look and see who you really are, and then tell me you wish to remain a Time Guardian.”

  A beautiful, golden visage stared back at Rhiannon. Gone were the illusions of humanity and flesh. Only beauty, power, and the divine feminine remained. She always knew she was different, but it was the love of the Earth women that had shown her who she really was. Instead of taking her place on the travel stone, she blessed the bowed head of Almira and rose into the cosmos to take her place among the other gods and goddesses.

  Liris’s Loop

  Edwardo Pérez

  One

  ALL I HAD TO DO WAS remember the future so we could go home again—to the dream I’d woven, where all that existed was a cosmic sea stretching to infinity, hugging the shores of my life.

  I arrived six years too soon. It was discovered that our traveling and our work generated a cumulative effect, weakening temporal-spatial integrities across the universe. To minimize this, we were not allowed to correct for early arrivals. Protocol mandated we remain in the flow of time, always forward.

  I’d spent years as a Watcher, studying the subtleties of temporal dimensions. Even as a Keeper, the Stewards assigned me to monitoring stations to practice weaving, but it was rare for a Ranger to spend time in surveillance. Yet, here I was, watching from a phased dimension, having to wait for the moment I was supposed to fix.

  I sat in the choir loft, which was used for storage, making the sanctuary even less inviting. In the corner of my eye, I saw a light shimmering in space. Its rays filled the nave, silhouetting Cal as he knelt in a pew, but only I could perceive them.

  “Done things, Ma,” confessed Cal, clutching a picture of his family.

  Evening Mass ended, but Cal hadn’t worshiped. He’d slipped in with the homeless who treated the vestibule like a shelter. It wasn’t faith that made Cal kneel; it was guilt.

  “Been six days, Ma, haven’t found Caitlin,” continued Cal, looking like a man in a child’s body. “Could pray all night, dozen rosaries. Can’t atone for what I’ve done, Ma.”

  “What good is atonement for?” asked Mickey Malone, a mob boss known as the Bishop of South Boston. He’d frequent churches to recruit. I’d heard stories about him, and it was strange to see him in his prime. I’d always pictured him as an old man, broken, bowed, and gray. “I prefer vengeance,” added Mickey, smiling as he knelt next to Cal. “Creates order.”

  “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,” quipped Cal.

  “And yet here you are, a lost soul looking for forgiveness, am I right?”

  Cal stayed quiet.

  “Bothers you? That I kneel here?” continued Mickey in his whiskey-soaked voice.

  “Anyone can kneel ... even you,” replied Cal.

  “Know me, huh?” asked Mickey, not waiting for an answer. “Knew your Ma, Peggy, as I called her,” said Mickey. “Went to junior prom together back in the day, before this life ever started, before she met your Pa. Nice man, Sean Calum Kearney ... honest man ... admire that about him ... his honesty. Never once considered working for me. Always thought it strange, though, a black man with an Irish name. Big man, too, am I right?”

  Cal stayed quiet. I’d heard this tale, too, and it was all I could do to remain an observer. Any deviation in my task, and they’d be sending another Guardian.

  “Fisherman’s life, your Pa, suited him, but you, you look like your Ma ... lace curtain, proper Irish, and that brings more opportunity. Maybe we could help each other is what I’m saying.”

  “I’m ten, Mr. Malone. Can’t work yet.”

  “Ten? Jesus. Took you for high school. Football type.”

  Cal didn’t respond.

  “Sometimes this prayer stuff ... it ain’t enough, kid,” said Mickey, loud enough for those sleeping in the pews to hear. “God, wherever he is, whoever he is, needs a little help, don’t he? I mean, those guys, ones who took Peggy’s life, God rest her ... frickin’ lawyers, frickin’ cops. Only true justice is what we give, am I right?”

  Cal remained silent.

  “Heard three of ’em ... like their arms had been ripped out by a bear or something, skulls cracked open, torn to shreds, gruesome stuff. Whatever happened to just a bullet in the head and a good hacksaw? Fish food. Cleaner that way ... efficient, am I right? Still, I admire your work.”

  “Lost control,” admitted Cal, starring into Mickey Malone’s pale-blue eyes.

  “I disagree, Cal,” hissed Mickey like a serpent, gazing back with the hint of a smile. “I think you’re focused, and that’s something I could use. That is, if you want to finish the job, get the big guy behind those thugs, find your little sister. Only redemption is the one we make, am I right?”

  “What big guy?” asked Cal, standing up in the pew, towering over Mickey, who slowly rose to his feet, still having to look up at Cal. “What do you know about Caitlin?” pressed Cal, grabbing Mickey’s silk coat and lifting Mickey a foot in the air so they could see eye to eye, giving me a glimpse of his power. Like a statue, he was calm, still, and deliberate.

  “We make our way, Son. You can throw me through a stained-glass window, or you can take a walk with me,” said Mickey, impressed with Cal’s strength and bravery. “We can help each other, Cal. We can clean up the streets, make ‘em safe again, or we can let it all fall apart. We make our way. Your choice.”

  Watching Cal, I waited for the moment I’d seen, for the moment I could alter, for the chance to break the loop. I blinked, and the light flickered as it began to dim.

  Two

  “YOU’RE OFF?” ASKED Sean. Cal had packed a bag.

  “Everyone leaves home, Dad,” said Cal, trying to convince himself of the words he’d uttered.

  “Sixteen, Cal. Not a man yet.”

  “Been a man since Ma died, since I got powerful.”

  “Killing a man doesn’t make you powerful, Cal, makes you weak.”

  “Eff that.”

  “Want to be a man? Want to be a hero? Truth, justice? Gotta find a different life, Son, different way than working for mob goons.”

  “Only justice is what we make, Pa. Streets are clean.”

  “Malone talking.”

  “Is he wrong? Effin’ lawyers, judges, politicians ... throw ’em all in a net and toss ’em into the harbor. Nothing but a bunch of crabs killing each other instead of working together. Mickey and I work together.”

  “Malone gives you orders, Cal, and you follow ’em. That’s not teamwork, Son. That’s slavery.”

  “Like you were ever a frickin’ slave ... and you ain’t my real pa anyway. You’re just the man who fished me out of the water after my parents tossed me out like bait.”

  “Don’t understand, Son.”

  “Where were you, Pa? Huh? That night? Police found us. Some scene, am I right? Beaten ten-year-old boy tied to the radiator, forced to watch ... what they did to Ma, to Caitlin. Where the eff were you? Out on some trawler? In the Harbor? Night fishing? Looking for some other reject to rescue?”

  “Don’t know everything,” implored Sean, and I felt for him.

  After seeing him struggle all these years with his secret, I understood his anguish. I never r
ealized until this night how much we had in common, and I was beginning to think my arrival hadn’t been a mistake. I’d grown so used to being a part of their lives that I wanted to stretch every second into years and delay the inevitable.

  “Know enough,” said Cal. “Thanks to that night, I can do enough.”

  “Malone ain’t no good.”

  “He’s around. That’s good enough.”

  Cal’s words carved a deep wound. It’s the plight of parenthood when you stare at your progeny and realize they’re exactly like you, and every word that escapes your lips echoes backward into the past, unable to change a damn thing. Not even I could guarantee assuagement. For all my abilities, memories were the most difficult to adjust, not just because they were unreliable, but because emotions are stubborn, and we cling to them, especially the ones that hurt the most.

  “You were meant for more than this, Son,” said Sean.

  “Wasn’t meant for nothing, Pa. Orphaned and left for dead. Effin parents. You don’t get nothing ’cause you forget what it’s like. All your life piles up ’til you can’t see no more. Can’t see today, can’t see yesterday, but you think you can still see tomorrow.”

  “Cal.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have found me, Pa. Maybe you should’ve let me drown. Maybe I deserved that fate.”

  It was all Sean could do to keep himself from losing his temper, a gesture I never understood about human parents. For all the love they bestowed on their offspring, they could easily lose control in the heat of a moment. Sean didn’t want to hurt Cal; he wanted him to understand what it felt like to love someone else so completely, so honestly, that you’d not only fish them out of the water, you’d drown yourself if it meant they’d live. This is where Cal was wrong; it’s not parents who don’t get it, it’s that we don’t get it until we’re parents, and then it’s too late to undo what’s been done.

  “Enough,” said Sean, removing the medallion he wore around his neck and handing it to Cal, who began to tremble uncontrollably as he held it, cradling it as if it were his own fragile heart. It wasn’t, but it was just as precious, an other-worldly relic crafted from a Výnosian alloy with a strength greater than any other known substance.

  “What the hell is this, Pa?”

  “Key to the rest of your life, Son. Only thing I can pass on other than my name.” Cal studied the medallion, which began to soothe his nerves, as Sean continued to explain. “Beyond the docks, take the dinghy, row out to Deer Island Light. There’s a rock formation on the east side. Tie up, swim underneath. There’s a cave about twenty feet down ... medallion opens what’s there.” Cal stood silently as Sean looked into his eyes. “All I can give you ... all I can do to help you ... is to show you who you really are, Cal.”

  Cal tried to focus his thoughts. “Don’t understand, Pa?” said Cal.

  “You will,” said Sean, embracing Cal. “Remember, no matter what happens, I believe in you, Son. May have fished you out, but you’ll always be my boy, and I will always be with you.”

  Three

  CAL ENTERED THE CAVE, and a magnetic force pulled the medallion toward a small pod that looked like a Formula One racer without wheels, unlocking it as an orange light illuminated the cavern.

  “Cal?” said a voice softly.

  Cal spun around, flooded with emotions. “Ma?”

  “My special boy,” she said as they embraced, and Cal began to sob uncontrollably, finally letting out six years of pain that had welled inside him.

  “Done things, Ma, things I can’t take back,” said Cal between tears.

  “You’ve mourned, Cal,” she said, looking into his eyes. “You’ve grown. My little boy, now a man.”

  “That’s too forgiving, Ma.” Cal tried to compose himself, wanting to endure his pain rather than release it.

  “What mothers do, Son. Doesn’t mean I approve, but I understand sorrow and temptation. I understand the need to search for yourself ... and for your sister.”

  “Never found her, Ma.”

  “That’s because I couldn’t be found,” said Caitlin, appearing next to Peggy.

  Cal embraced his sister and cried. “I’m so sorry, Cait, for not saving you,” he said, letting go of his guilt.

  “I know,” said Caitlin, “but Mom and I are okay. It’s you and Dad who need saving.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Cal.

  “It’s why you’re here,” said Caitlin.

  Cal walked around the cave, drying his eyes, trying to comprehend his life. “This place makes no sense.”

  “Your father and I wrestled with this knowledge for years, not knowing what to do or what to say, but if he’s led you here, then it’s time.”

  “Was planning on leaving home tonight ... not just Pa and Mickey, but Boston, too.”

  “Leaving is never the answer, Cal,” added Peggy. “We have to face ourselves. Only then can we forgive ourselves and others.”

  “Even if I could, what comes after forgiveness, Ma?”

  “Look in the pod, and maybe you’ll find out, Son.”

  Peggy and Caitlin watched as Cal knelt next to the pod and gazed inside, realizing the significance of what he saw.

  “The Harborman,” whispered Cal reverently. “The Savior of Boston, from when we were kids.” Cal marveled at the sea-green super-suit and helmet displayed in the pod as if they were holy relics. “He went away years ago. Started to think he wasn’t real,” said Cal, swinging Harborman’s twin swords of justice like a child playing with toys. For a moment, it was as if Cal’s troubles had washed out to sea with the tide’s ebb. “My God, it was Pa, wasn’t it? He was the Harborman?”

  Caitlin smiled proudly, while regret colored Peggy’s face as if the weight of her knowledge was about to crush her.

  “Didn’t know what any of this was when we found you. Sean used it as best as he could for a time, to protect us and those who needed help, but it wasn’t meant for him. Son, this is how you were sent to us ... in this pod from another world. It was the same day we found out I was carrying Caitlin. Both of you were our miracles.”

  Cal was flummoxed, and I sympathized with his inner turmoil. To be honest, I almost appeared to them in the cavern, but it wasn’t time for me to intervene. Cal needed to figure things out for himself, or I’d never be able to help him. He was a moth in a cocoon, and all I could do was watch ... and hope he’d find his way out.

  “Still an orphan, still abandoned, still thrown away,” mumbled Cal, succumbing to his negative thoughts, ignoring the significance of his origin.

  It’s a problem common to human-raised youth, one that vexed me; the inability to appreciate a moment, to understand its significance in a larger scope, is simply lost on them.

  “Still a gift,” added Peggy, smiling at Cal.

  “To you,” said Cal curtly.

  “To the world, Son,” replied Peggy.

  “Pa used everything in that pod to do good,” explained Caitlin. “He used it to be the hero the world needs from time to time. You could, too, Cal.”

  “Couldn’t save you or Ma. Why should I care about saving the world?”

  “You’ve been around Mickey too long,” scoffed Peggy.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Ma. World is screwed up, a wicked mess. Definitely needs savin’, but it never cared about me. Quit school after you died, no one ever came to check on me ... not one social worker or truancy officer. Pa never noticed. World didn’t care about him either ... ain’t nothing for a black Irishman in Boston ... not even a bowl of chowder.”

  “You could change all that,” said Peggy.

  “Did Pa change it? That’s where he was when we were attacked, am I right? Out playing hero? Saving the world while his family was torn apart?” Cal stood up, letting his anger take over. “For what? No one cared about Harborman, not when he was saving people, not after he quit. Just another vigilante freak in a costume.”

  “He was the Savoir of Boston,” said Caitlin.

  “Half my friends ne
eded saving from all the goddamn priests. City needed saving from corrupt cops and politicians and guys like Mickey Malone. Where was Harborman? Out fishin’?”

  “Yet you kneel at the pew when you could dismantle it yourself,” fired Peggy.

  “Why didn’t he save us? When they hurt you ... when they made me watch? What about that, Ma?”

  “He’s carried that guilt ever since, Cal. Gave up the suit, the life, and never came back here. It’s what they wanted ... mob, cops, priests, politicians. It’s why we died. It’s why the Harborman died that night, too.”

  “They’re all gone, Ma. All those men. Took care of that myself. Didn’t need any of this stuff to do it. Just needed these hands.”

  “Evil’s never gone, Cal. It stirs in every soul. It’s why we need saving, not just from others, but from ourselves,” said Peggy.

  “What the hell do I know about saving myself, or anyone else?” shouted Cal. “I can’t do this. I can’t be The Harborman or any kind of hero. Don’t know how.”

  “Pa can show you if you let him,” said Caitlin.

  “Go to him, Son, before it’s too late,” said Peggy, holding Cal, soothing him as if he were still a little boy. “Make your peace and find who you were meant to be,” added Peggy as she and Caitlin faded. “We’re always with you, Cal,” echoed their voices throughout the cavern as Cal stared at the black pool that led back to the harbor.

  Four

  CAL WALKED THE LONG way home, rehearsing what he’d say to Sean, and I began to shutter as we moved closer to the moment. The light flashed like an explosion, and then it went out. All that remained was a void, searching for something to fill it.

  “Too late, kid,” said a voice from behind a shadow, tossing Sean’s broken body on the kitchen floor as Cal walked in. “Harborman’s finally dead. Your turn’s coming.”

  Cal lunged toward the darkness, but there was no one there. He spun around, but Sean’s body was gone. “Pa!” shouted Cal, dazed and shaken as I scanned the room. “We make our way,” said Cal, trying to calm himself by chanting the words Mickey taught him to control his temper. However, the mantra was now a question dancing in Cal’s remorse, a phrase muttered for the sake of reconvincing himself that Mickey was a sage.